Heather's Gift (Men of August 3)

The other woman was older, but nice in a quiet sort of way. Heather had watched her mother the other agents for months. She had heard Helena even cooked for the crew in the bunkhouse. Dammit, she was getting desperate.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful,” she finally agreed. “Gives you plenty of room to think in, too.”

A soft chuckle greeted her words. “I heard one of the August boys say the same thing. Sammy, I think it was. He told Rick he needed room to think in one night when he was caught sneaking out.”

Heather smirked. Sam wouldn’t like knowing the nickname was catching on.

“Hopefully, we can keep him contained a little bit longer,” she chuckled, then sobered. “He’s getting antsy, though.”

“Yeah, he’s the wild one of the bunch all right,” Helena laughed. “Tara cusses him daily.”

“When she’s not cursing Raider, you mean?” Heather shook her head. Tara and the other agent seemed at odds more often than not.

“Rick better be getting rid of that one,” Helena sighed. “He has his eye on Tara, you watch and see. He’s trouble. Always sneakin’ around and watching everyone besides the Augusts. That boy’s too nosy.”

The other woman sounded exasperated with Raider’s antics, but the comment caused Heather to pause. This was the first she had heard of any of the other agents not concentrating on their job. Especially Raider. With the information Dillon had given them, it wasn’t looking good for the other agent.

“Raider’s always been different,” Heather murmured, making a mental note to say something to Rick about this.

“Yeah, he’s a strange one, all right.” Helena shrugged. “Well, I’m headed to the front. Rick wanted me out there for a few hours while he took care of some things in the RV. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later, Helena.” Heather nodded, her thoughts still on Raider.

She wouldn’t have suspected him of not doing his job, but she admitted as she thought about it, that he seemed more secretive than usual, quieter, darker than he had been when she first met him. That wouldn’t have seemed possible at the time, but Heather admitted it was true. Raider seemed angrier now, rather than just broodingly quiet.

She sighed deeply. She couldn’t image one of their agents was actually the person stalking the Augusts. Raider had been on personal time during the trouble with Marly and with Sarah, but he had been with them during the Stewart assignment, a time when Marly had been home, and he could have met up with her.

She nibbled at her fingernail thoughtfully. If it was Raider, then catching him wouldn’t be easy. It would be damned hard. He was smart, smarter than most of the other agents with several years of SEALs training behind him. It was one of the reasons Rick had taken him on when he came to the agency. Raider was damned smart, and good at what he did. Covert ops had been his specialty, with particular emphasis on assassinations. She shuddered in dread. If it was he, then their problems had just multiplied. He wouldn’t be easy to catch, and she knew Rick and Tara. They trusted him, trusted him too much for the short time they had known him.

She breathed out deeply then nibbled at her lower lip as she picked up the night vision binoculars and brought them to her eyes. Directing the lenses to the hill outside the pool area, she searched it carefully. It was the only weak spot on the property. The one place he could hide and watch, wait for the opportunity, for the perfect chance to get off a clear shot.

The doors and windows in the house now held the latest in bullet resistant glass, but there was still artillery that could penetrate it. Nothing was fool proof. And the bastard wanted Sam. Her heart clenched. Could she bear it if anything happened to him? If he was taken from her forever?

She couldn’t. She loved him, regardless of the complications it brought and the nights she was spending agonizing over it. She loved him. Now, if she could just help heal him, and somehow, someway, love him enough to help him to let go of the past, and his brothers’ lovers.

Chapter Twenty

“I truly meant to be here as you ordered. Satisfying your every wish is, of course, my fondest desire. Alas, I was called away. I am certain you can find other ways to amuse yourself though. If nothing else, use your hand!”

The sarcasm in the letter wasn’t easy to miss. Sam’s eyes narrowed as an involuntary grin tugged at his lips. He raised the scented paper to his nose, inhaled and closed his eyes as nostalgia and hot, searing lust washed over him.

Windsong. It had been many, many years since he had smelled that particular scent. Damn, it had been even longer since he had heard of it. The smell of her perfume sent a shaft of bittersweet longing through his soul. He had been a teenager the last time he had smelled it. And none too impressed with the romance of the scent. Now, it touched him, as few things had in the past years.

He folded the letter carefully, took a last lingering smell of it, then tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. He looked around the room with narrowed eyes. Of course, he wasn’t about to let her get away with this.

Use his hand, he snorted silently. He had been using his damned hand too often in the past months. The memory of the stables, Heather on her knees, his cock tunneling into her mouth, overtook him. Okay, twice he hadn’t used his hand, and he wasn’t about to use it now. The first being months ago, beneath the rays of a full moon as she kissed her way down his body. Tara had, of course, walked up on them not seconds after he shot his release down Heather’s throat. Her fury, and Heather’s chagrin, had been thick in the heavy silence of the night.

He looked around the room, wondering where the hell she could be. He knew she had come up here after dinner. Knew she must have found the brown paper sack he had left, with very complete instructions on what to do and how to be waiting for him. She evidently wasn’t taking him seriously.

But she would, he assured himself. As soon as he found her she would learn exactly how serious he was. He turned and strode quickly from the room. Closing the door carefully behind him, he glanced down the hallway. The rest of the family was in the living room, enjoying the rare movie that they took time to watch. He had seen them not ten minutes ago, and Heather hadn’t been with them.

He moved down the stairs, determined to check again anyway, just to be on the safe side. She wasn’t there. Cade and Brock had their women stretched out on the couches with them, watching the flickering screen silently. Marly looked worn and sleeping. Sarah didn’t look much more awake. They were dressed in short silk nighties, their robes pooled on the floor. He had a damned good idea that his brothers had satisfied their own raging hungers earlier. Hell’s fire, he cursed silently, where could she be?

He stalked to the front door, careful to turn out the entryway light before he stepped out on the front porch.

“Sam.” Rick moved within the shadows on the far end of the porch as Sam stepped behind the concealing pine shrubbery that had been planted in front of the wide cement landing months before.

“Where is she?” He didn’t have time to argue or to beat around the bush. His cock was a raging brand beneath his jeans, his blood pounding with his need.